Endless Friendship: Origins
by Not Another Word
Summary: An introduction to sires of stories involving the various factions from Endless Legends braving through the world of Equestria. Because these are introductions, the focus will be almost exclusively on the Faction of their respective chapter.
1. Mild Walkers

Endless Friendship: Origins  
by Not another word

Prolog: The Mild Walkers

There it was, right before my eyes: the most alien being to ever plague my memories. There was no question now, my hunting party and I will need to return to the king immediately.

Thankfully, this thing slept heavier than it actually weighed or I might not have been able to bring it back to the king alive. While I'm counting my blessings, it was also very fortunate that the forest was very calm today with only a few bird chirps here and there. Beyond the stress of carrying this, I'll be it, very harmless looking creature, the unknowns of this thing were still enough to keep me on edge, and my hunting party had more than a few questions for me. They will all have to stay unanswered at least until the king sees this thing.

It didn't take long before they came into view: the half tree, half stone walls of the kingdom. Not far beyond those walls was the king, and by extension, an end to this confusion. Although I will be the first to admit I am curious about the beast I am currently carrying, this is a leader's situation, far beyond my expertise.

After passing him off to my superior, who also had some questions, I regrouped with my hunting party and set off, more than happy to leave the unknown for the king to deal with.


	2. Never Dig Too High

Chapter 1: Never dig too high

The confusion has worn off, and most of the rubble was cleared a while ago. Never let it be sad that The Vaulters can't make the best of a bad situation.

"Carla! Grab your bolt gun, we're heading out!" Carla heard her superior shout from across the messy, yet still well-powered, floor.

' _Heading out? Why in the name of Auriga are we heading outside in a situation like this?'_ Carla thought to herself as she made her way to the armory assuming she was in the middle of a siege, ' _There's not much point in arguing with the captain, not when he's being this loud anyway.'_

Carla's exploring equipment was mostly heavy plate armor that covered her almost entirely to minimize exposure to the heavy tundra that The Vaulters used to call home.

Now equipped with her armor, she reached to take the last bolt gun from the rack just as another hand came into view, swiftly taking the gun off the rack. The blue accents for the rack glowed to indicate that there is, in fact, no more guns available.

"Hey!" Carla turned to and shouted at the unresponsive gun thief as he proceeded to ignore her obvious dissatisfaction.

' _Great, I'm stuck on overwatch.'_ Carla thought to herself annoyed to finally fall victim to the unwritten rule: No gun, no fighting. The Vaulters, despite loving any opportunity to enjoy the latest and greatest gadgets, didn't have many weapons laying around, not since the great quake as some of the noobs are calling it. So people that go out without a gun are responsible for watching everyone else's backs at all times.

"Hey mom, where do you think you're going," inquired Chef from behind.

Carla turned to face Chef as she remembered the inside joke of calling her mom and figured that Hot Bot had to be in the room too-

"Come on Chef, that joke's older than my grandma," Carla herd Hot Bot's attempt at humor, and instantly recognized his signature false confidence from her left.

 _'The poor guy tries so hard to be funny. Someone's gotta tell him how to really sell his lines. Probably, Chef, he's got a good score with this kinda thing'_ Carla through to herself as she internally cringed at yet another missed opportunity for Hot Bot to make her laugh. Hot Bot's comebacks were weak and that's not too bad, but as Carla theorized, he knew they were week half way through saying them, forcing him to shift his tone, making them painful to listen to as it reminded her of a time before she had learned how to smoothly convey her thoughts.

Now that he's next to Chef, it looked like a very stark contrast, with Hot Bot's head exposed to reveal a pale red head atop an unremarkable forehead, leading into a well-defined jaw line and pearly white teeth to match.

Hot Bot wasn't short by any means, in fact, he was the second tallest man in boot camp, but Chef was a hulk of a man, even for Military standards. He was so massive that sometimes, a superior would order him to kneel so he could be at eye level with them, and the heavy armor, much like Carla's own, didn't help. To make him seem even less approachable, he had a rumbling voice that would sometimes make the recruits feel like their soul was shaking. Although this voice did make him sound overpowering, his slow pronunciations combined with the deepness of his voice did make for, as he soon found out, great deadpan comedy, wich only created yet more contrast between the two.

Chef was no cook, but the one time in boot camp that he was allowed to hold, and only hold, an experimental flame thrower, he ended up frying up Josh's bunk. The rest of us recruits would joke about him always over heating his equipment overheating like his bed, and the next morning Jimmy, another recruit, would; grab a glass of water, disable his alarm clock, light a match, hold it up to his face, and when Josh woke up panicking at the fire, that Carla was sure looked a lot larger from up close, Jimmy would hand him the water, and pour it onto the match, and thus getting the bed soaked in water. She would top it off by saying "Nice going, Hot Shot". Well, she would, but she fumbled the line and instead ended up saying "Nice going, Hot _Bot_ ". Needless to say, as with most freudian slips, no one has let him live that down.

"Reporting to the main exit for briefing, how 'bout you," Carla responded feeling confident for being part of the Vaulters scouting party. Whenever something big happens they'll be the first to know, and they'll be the first to see it.

"First of all, there's nothing to brief. We're going out there so the real squads can have a briefing," Jimmy butted in.

Giving the room a quick once over to try and find him Carla noticed a figure by the armor rack where Jimmy's voice came from, heavily obstructed by the shade provided by a light malfunctioning, and his light armor. With his helmet on and how still he was standing, Carla miss took him for a lazily discarded armor set.

"Jimmy, if you're going to bring us all down by acting like scouts aren't at all important, why don't you take some of your own medicine and stop acting like Team Ghost, it makes you look childish," Carla spat back a little more aggressively than she meant to.

 _'I wish Chef was a little less patient so he would get involved. Whenever I talk back it just turns into a shouting match,_ Carla thought to herself as her memories caught up to her and she recalled the last time she got confrontational.

"You want to talk about me acting childish while name calling in the same sentence,-" Jimmy inquired before being interrupted by Hot Bot.

"Ya, those jokes are kinda, well, getting old. We do have real names for a reason after all," Hot Bot interrupted while again showing his paradoxical lack of both commitment and tact.

"Ya, in fact, they're older than his grandma. And that's, like, super old," Chef chimed in at a patronizingly slow pace.

 _'So that's our team dynamics, Jimmy brings us all down, I try not to let him get away with it, Hot Bot backs him up despite constantly telling me how he hates Jimmy's mean-spiritedness, and Chef just sits back and busts some britches when he can get away with it,'_ Carla thought to herself as she rolled her eyes and jumped when they landed on the captain as he stepped into the room.

"Line up soldiers, you've got a job to do," the captain shouted, not at all pleased with the bickering of his subordinates.

Everyone else turned around to look in Carla's blind spot, who also turned to see a gaping hole to the outside world wich happened to be a barren and empty field of hard soil and rocks. This must have been what Chef and Jimmy were trying to tell me before they kept getting interrupted.

The team was lined up parallel to the beach with Carla flanked by both Jimmy and Hot Bot who was himself flanked by Chef. On the captain's command, we would do our job as we did countless times before, but this time felt more special. Like today was the most important day to be a scout so far.

Carla wouldn't have to wait long to gauge the accuracy of her gut feeling as the captain gave the order, "Move.


	3. What separates us from the beasts?

Chapter 2: What separates us from the beasts?

Crysandris' team was stranded. The forest was alien to them, but that's not what confused Crysandris as this was the goal of this expedition: to find new land to settle before Auriga changed enough to become uninhabitable.

It's true, Crysandris' home: Auriga is changing: longer winters and new civilizations cropping up. So she and a few settlers went off to find new land in case their home became too hostel for them.

"Myculus, record this, you could very well be writing history!"

 _Settler's Official records: Day one._

 _We set off under the cover of storm to the east before emerging from the clouds in an unknown forest. We are now exploring the area before trying to return to the capital._

 _The area seems to be completely devoid of dust, and there is bazaar coldness in the air. It is a challenge to describe, as it gave us the same drive and invigoration that a cool breeze would give someone, but it wasn't a matter of temperature. Almost like a need we never knew we had suddenly decided to make itself known._

 _The flora and fauna are very peaceful at the moment, but none of us can shake the feeling of an impending paradigm shift. I am speaking of something other than the threat of eternal winter of course. In fact, I feel like this feeling is pulling me in the opposite direction to that impending doom. To be honest, I don't know which is more disturbing._

 _-Myculus  
_


	4. Ruff sailing

Chapter 3: Ruff sailing

The glass was cracked. That was the first good news Milword had seen in centuries.

The glass surrounded him for a great fraction of his existence. The glass constantly taunted him with promises of an outside world, but it would always shock him into submission whenever he tried to hold it to that promise. That same glass was now jeopardized.

A single crack that traced from the floor into the ceiling of his invisible prison gave him new promises. Promises of freedom: an open sea full of open minds to share his knowledge with.

Granted, most of that knowledge was of hatred and paranoia, and he planned to learn more than he taught anyway. Still, a man can dream.

For many, dreaming was all they could do and the prisoner of the glass dome was no exception, until now.

Eventually, he had stopped trying. After all, it would be difficult to live a free life with nerves fried by controlled shocks.

' _Controlled is the key word here. Control is all they care about. Those ocean forsaken guards. How could they be so heartless as to take something they couldn't give back without so much as a second thought. I've had enough of it. No more will I be their victim: a trophy to display their effectiveness to their perps,'_ The captive monologued to himself as he practically welded his eyes shut and slammed into the glass head first with withered hope in his heart and the hatred only a captive of generations can find in his mind.

Glass, blood, and water rushed to embrace him as he though, ' _I am no longer the captive and I am no longer Milword. Time has eroded both. I am Frei!_


	5. Ghost Stories Never Get Old

Chapter 4: Ghost Stories Never Get Old

It was supposed to be a routine search of the ancient Endless ruins. They entered the ruins in the southern tundra, and now they see the outside is a rocky expanse of mountains, not tall enough to have a frozen peak, but still tall enough to block their line of sight from the horizon on all sides.

What was most concerning was that some were capped with what appeared to be giant, dead, leafless bushes.

"My lord, we appear to be near the harpy nests," Advised baron Flin's subordinate: Ophelia Mredal.

"I can see that," replied the baron before addressing his men, "Stay indoors until further notice, and prepare to have to hold this ground indefinitely."

"But sir," Ophelia interjected, "we are very well equipped to deal with these flying rats."

The baron handed her a spear as it's head reflected both Ophelia and the barons deep blue glow, "Here, if you think this will be so easy, you should have no problem fighting them alone. My men and I will stay here where we have the advantages of shelter and cover."

The men scattered across the ruins, with ideas already in mind to help hold the, very likely hollow ground, from the harpies. They were vile beasts with the torso and head of a standard human, but also wings and legs that would be more at home on a giant eagle. Despite how human the head was, the similarities were only skin-deep or bone-deep to be accurate. There are no thoughts of higher meaning in those beasts' minds. Instead, that space was reserved for basic animal instincts and a ferocious hunger for murder.

With Ophelia having silently conceded by leaving the baron's line of sight and the other soldiers taking initiative by preparing for an airborne assault, the baron found himself alone with his thoughts.

' _Ophelia must be new, or at least I hope so. The only- Well, there are only two reasons for someone to suggest a fight. The first reason is that they have never been in one, in which case, she is simply naïve. The other reason is that my new right-hand solder has something to gain from this, and doesn't believe I can or will support her.'_

the latter would be the worst case of the two possibilities. Ophelia was no slouch when it came to negotiations. If she believed she couldn't convince me to follow through her plans, there is a good reason for it.

Now that the sun is setting, suspicion and tension are heavy in the air. The baron would have to sleep lightly tonight.


	6. Shifting for crystals

Chapter 5: Shifting for crystals

The left hand: That was the first thing Margo experienced in countless hours, and it was always cold.

Margo was frozen from anywhere between three to four days. Thankfully he had a view of the horizon, allowing him to see the sun and moon set over the blinding expanse of bright white snow around him that would sparkle with light here and there, reminding him of dust, and by extension, The Endless. That kept his internal clock and thusly his sanity firmly intact. However, this proved to be a double-edged sword.

Margo could derive some comfort in knowing the extent of his situation, but this also leads to despair as the hours ticked by without any sign of thouing out or rescue from friend or foe, quickly eroding away at his hope as his attempts to reassure himself was left with nothing but silence.

He was quickly running out of justifications for his predicament, as being summoned or ascending to The Endless seemed more and more like wishful thinking with each passing moment, but acceptance of his situation held no salvation.

' _I understand now: what I believe is irrelevant. The ice will not relent to mere emotions, nor will it falter to a reason of equal temperature to itself. I am paralyzed, and must deal with this paralysis in solitude,'_ Margo thought to himself in his despair when something happened to the ice.

A single blood red shard of who knows what and who knows where embedded itself into Margo's left hand. The only part of himself that had any feeling.

Unfortunately for Margo the cold only spared the nerves of his hand from its greedy embrace, so his hand was still just frozen enough to accurately describe it as immobile. Without any range of motion in that hand, Margo had no way of gathering new information on this mysterious and quite painful intruder.

That was until the shard had suddenly started glowing, or rather the glow that was always there suddenly shifted intensity revealing that the surface of the shard wasn't actually red. The surface of the shard was actually a dark gray which Margo had previously mistaken for residue from whatever caused the shard to go flying with enough force to embed itself into frozen flesh. The surface was also apparently translucent, as the red came from something inside that was glowing red.

Shortly after the intensity of the glow grew, Margo was freed from his prison. Not by temperature, but through raw force.

With unnatural precision, the ice surrounding Margo launched away from him. Even his snow white fur was free of water's uncaring cousin.

Margo was still numb from the shock of a now complete range of motion returning to him. The only reason that he even knew the ice was gone was because of the shattering noise that was quickly smothered in the harshly whistling winter winds around him, and the fact he could now see himself move with his thankfully untouched eyes.

With its new range of motion, Margo's body, as if having just remembered what to do in winter, shifted: The triangular sheets of bright white, that would normally hover about six inches from his shoulders and shoulder blades in a mock wing formation, rapidly expanded and curved inward to shield his round and bulbous torso from the roaring winds around him leaving a moderate amount of room for his arms and legs. Unsurprisingly to Margo, the changes continued as his bright white coat turned jet black, and he could feel the heat of the sun above him finally warm his nerves enough to return some feeling to the rest of his body.

Margo was not distracted by this, however. His sights were now on the structures that peeked from over the horizon, with a scowl on his now blackened face.


	7. Through Our Skin

Chapter 6: Through Our Skin

Gyro awoke to a pale blue light above. Looking around through slightly blue tinted vision, he concluded that this was not his apartment. Instead of the Needle-Haystack bed, he would normally wake up in, there was nothing but gray dirt beneath him, and instead of the elaborately painted walls and matching ceiling mural to restrict his vision, Gyro's eyes were met with a maddeningly empty sky of gray that glowed gently.

Suspiciously soon after his awakening, an ear-splitting scream echoed throughout the empty landscape. The same scream a little girl would make on their first session with their Giver.

"Hello," Gyro inquired to the monotone void surrounding him as he stood himself up, hoping to find whoever was screaming, and by extension, civilization.

Gyro didn't get a response and then guessed that he was probably dragged off into the night by his Giver for an evidently harrowing session that didn't simply stop at the body. This was a treatment of the mind. So he simply stayed put and prepared to endure the agonizing nothingness to pass.


	8. Forgotten Friendship

Chapter 7: Forgotten Friendship

Having just completed her first assassination Akachi was a little suspicious. The assassination itself wasn't very complicated, the silencing of the governor of Miss Me: The Necrophages forward base.

The target was a slaver known for his silent savagery, preferring to punish his slaves behind closed doors; letting his other slaves fill in the details for him, and to ensure that the details remained in the dark, he would remove their jaw. Hence the name: Drops Jaw.

The results spoke for themselves, no slave of his have ever been recovered without soon after succumbing to overwhelming nightmares, throwing themselves into their work until the restless nights would catch up with them. What happened after that Akachi was desperately trying not to think of. Of corse, Akachi wouldn't know half of this if she didn't need to spy on Drops Jaw to find room in his skedule for a clean kill.

Akachi was thankful that those punishment sessions weren't the only time of his day that he was predictably alone. Akachi soon found out that Drops Jaw, like other 'War Heros' dined on whole food at the usual times (breakfast, lunch, dinner,) instead of the slimy feed that most Necrophages would eat. What made Drops Jaw special though, was the fact that he when he would dine he made sure he was completely and totally alone, the doors were locked, and the windows were blinded.

Knowing this, Akachi, having hollowed out and hidden a bomb, recently appropriated from the Vaulters, into the main course, (he was thankfully large enough to regularly request meals that would dwarf most Vaulter gadgets in sheer volume,) simply exited the room through the window. Soon he would dine, and an explosion would cue Akachi to rush back into the room, finish the job if necessary, take a tooth for evidence of death, and make a hasty escape back into hiding, before receiving new orders. At least, that was the plan.

After jumping through the window, Akachi did not find herself outside forward base's capital building, but instead in a pristine room clearly intended for nobles. _'Most likely a Broken Lords' room,'_ Akachi thought to herself as she noticed all the comforts and luxuries like velvet sheet and an assortment of various pillows for the queen-sized bed, and the exclusive one man bathroom and closet semi-rooms both directly connected to the bedroom.

The former was stocked to the brim with fancy dresses and matching shoes that looked like they were all designed for a little girl, except for the fact that the skirt part of the dresses was all far too short in the front, and on further inspection, the shoes were bazaar for a Broken Lord as well.

The shoes seemed to be designed to be much like a lily pad, the shoes all had oval like shape. The base of the shoe would rise at a ninety-degree angle on all sides at various lengths, but never longer than three inches. The back of the shoes dipped into the center of the shoe to make a shape one would often find at the top of a common horse heart.

In fact, the presence of clothes at all was jarring as well.

The Broken Lords never had a need for dresses as they were never seen outside of their metal armor. Little was known about the Broken Lords and their physiology. Even the Broken Lords themselves don't understand much as their current forms are due to a mistake perpetrated by a Broken Lord Akachi assumed died a long time ago.

Akachi started to panic as the implications of otherworldly intervention started to set in, but where ever she was, it was in foreign territory, and foreign territory is no place to panic.

As if on cue, Akachi could hear a door open and the sound of four people walking and mumbling to each other with two of them climbing up some stairs and fast approaching, while the other two went over to somewhere else in the house below her.

Now was the time for action. With a quick scan across the room, briefly noting how small the room and everything inside it was, Akachi found an open window in the bathroom.

Akachi Swiftly leaped out of the window to hang off the edge on the other side, and silently dropped down to the ground that was, pleasantly enough, no more than a two-foot drop.

Now skulking through the alleys that connected to the one she dropped into, Akachi searched for a place long forgotten by whatever city manager was graced to plan out a city to rival The Broken Lords level of luxury, so she could collect herself and plan out her next actions. Alone. Without any Idea where she was.

 _'Nothing a Forgotten can't handle.'_


	9. Necrochanges

Chapter 8: Necrochanges

Drops Jaw was in panic mode as his eyes opened to a barren badlands. One blink and the hive was gone, along with the surrounding forest.

' _That stranger took it away! We should have never trusted that writhing trickster,'_ Drops Jaw concluded. Without a hive, Drops Jaw was as good as gone. There were no drones to order and no hope of shelter, as there was no gel to use on all these loose rocks. He was alone for the first time in his life.

Even in his sleep, Drops Jaw was watched by The Night Seers. With everyone gone, it was up to him, and him alone to endure the blisteringly hot sands below his feet, and the morbidly scorching sun that rained down from above, both challenging him to stay: to not lose his mind to the sudden catastrophe. No self-respecting Necrophage would leave a challenge to rot.

As if in response to this commitment, a dark figure made itself known in the corner of my left eye.

"Friend, what are you doing on your own?" Called the figure, clearly unaware of exactly what it was dealing with. He should have known Drops Jaw's name, and that he was not named at birth like himself. Drops Jaw had to earn his name.

In a flash of action, a lot about the figure was reviled to Drops Jaw. Primarily the similarity to his own form: A lower half of four vaguely insect-like legs, connecting to the torso, which leads to two arms, both ending in a three finger hand, and a head atop the torso, much like a human. Instead of reserving a space at the top of the otherwise normal looking face for the eyes, there was a blackened dome cap that contrasted with the fleshy, muted gray of the rest of his body. Much like Drops Jaw, the lower half of the face was humanoid: with a nose, ears, and a mouth. The mouth though, was where the similarities ended. The lower jaw was missing.

The figure brought his hand to his face and let out an inhuman scream as his brain reminded his nerves that he was supposed to have a lower jaw and the pain caught up to him. He quickly dropped to his knees and glared up to see Drops Jaw looming over him with a hand ax stained by a thick, let watery neon green substance. The figure quickly realized it to be his own blood, and his eyes widened with horror.

 _'How could he be so fast? I didn't even see him swing,'_ Was the last thing the figure perceived before his skull caved in.

The life faded from the stranger's eyes, and Drops Jaw saw someone entirely different take the place of Drops Jaw's next meal. The shape-shifter was now reviled to be an equine bug, with glassy eyes of solid neon green, similar to the substance staining Drops Jaw's ax and quickly pooling underneath the corpse before him.

Beyond this, the glossy, jet black corps had a protrusion jutting out of the things head in the shape of a solid horn that was slightly displaced when the ax made contact. The corps was small, barely a quarter of Drops Jaw's own height. Transparent Bug wings adorned the area where the loin met the back. All in all, the thing was a much less threatening version of a horse, aside from the fangs that broke up the monotony of the otherwise complete row of molars on the upper jaw. First of all, the eyes were huge given the size of the head, which easily made up a third of its total size. The orientation of the eyes and the vertical height of the head, in general, implied a predatory nature that would allow for some depth perception. However, the muzzle, despite its abnormally small size, would still heavily impair its ability to look down. Another disadvantage to increase the befuddling question: how has this thing not gone extinct?

As Drops Jaw began to feast on the raw cares, he realized that the thing must have been desperately malnourished with a patchy, unkempt mane that dragged as if recently dipped in water. Despite the Writhing Tricksters' experiments, he has never seen anything as extremely starved as to cause the see-through, bug-like wings, and the legs to form physical holes that all lead straight to the other side. The holes were so large and frequent; it baffled Drops Jaw that the thing could even stand to begin with, even without the implied malnourishment.

The shape shifting was a mystery best left to his superiors, and with no sign of them returning anytime soon, that would have to be left unsolved.

However, Drops Jaw did still have a purpose. The Hive might return. He didn't know how, but he was not going to be idle, and preparing for that return was the best use of his time he could think of.

These shape shifters could not be allowed to survive. This one was not a problem, but in all likeliness, this was just a baby and a starving one at that. The older, more successful of its kind would certainly prove more challenging. The Forgotten were already a huge security leak, and the thought of their stealth skills combined with shape-shifting into exact duplicates of overseers made Drops Jaw shudder. This was the first time he was afraid in his life and all because of what had to be a starving infant.

' _These things must all die. No Exceptions.'_


	10. Origins

Chapter 9: Origins

Fid: home to the prosperous and well lead Equestia. This is common knowledge to anyone within Fid not living underneath a rock (which happens a lot more often than most tend to appreciate). What is uncommon knowledge for most residents of Fid is that the world in question is a sister world linked to the wonderful and now dying world of Auriga.

Normally, details intrinsic to inner workings of someone's world is unknown to the residents of said world. However, the sister worlds tend to have a way with breaking the norm.

Thus enters an excellent Vaulter explosives engineer by the name of Madi Kinderson and her latest military commission: The construction of a working prototype for the newly designed 'Chrono-Shredder'.

"Beginning primary test for 'Chrono-Shredder Prototype; MK: 3'," echoed Madi's voice throughout the basement of her home as she spoke into the intercom/recording device. It was a long day of catching up with her commissions. So long in fact, that instead of relaxing with some world news over a cold-cut dinner like she wanted, she was testing the admittedly very interesting Chrono-Shredder commission.

 _'A Vaulters work is never done'_ Madi darkly rationalized to herself before the sensors for the test began to fluctuate. Normally this wouldn't raise any red flags, but this was before any detonation. And stranger still, the readings couldn't be coming from the bomb. Further than that, the pattern was too repetitive not to be organic.

After rushing to activate the locks for the testing chamber that she didn't remember unlocking, Madi addressed the intruder, "For your own safety please refrain from making any sudden movements inside the testing grounds," Madi said over the intercom.

Madi knew that simply exiting the chamber was the safer thing to do in that situation, given there being no biological or radioactive things being tested, but she also didn't want this intruder to be anywhere she couldn't see them and it would be believable enough if Titans forbid, they were here for an assassination which was the highest priority in prevention. That brought up another concern: she couldn't see them, not directly, and that could only lead to one explanation: This intruder was a forgotten.

At least she thought so until Occam's razor was shattered by the sudden appearance of a baby, bright blue unicorn in the testing chamber. That shattering appearance was Madi's cue as a scientist to put hows and whys on hold, grab a pen and paper, and record everything.

'Height: roughly two ft. With: roughly one ft. Length: roughly two and a half ft. Species: equine, anything more specific is TBD. Coat color: light blue. Main color: sky blue/weight. Eye color: pink.' Madi wrote, easily jotting down the bare basics before the thing on the other side of the plexiglass barrier could recover from its apparent shock. Unfortunately, the shock didn't last forever.

Madi was surprised, to say the least, but the unicorns experience was much more extreme, as it tried to comprehend the prison that formed around her, and her alien jailer staring at her through the glaring glass. _'Where am I?! What is that?! How do I get out of here? Can I get out of here? Am I dead? Is this were bad ponies go when they die?'_ all these questions were springing up in the ponies mind as it spun around, ears down, eyes wide and teeth bared as panic and desperation swelled to power in its psyche.

Most of the feeling, being on the other side of this experience, was lost on Madi as she simply decided that the high priority things were recorded and reached for the Opter-com to contact, well, she was sure she would figure that out with the com in hand.

Before Madi could grasp the Opter-com and in turn any contact with more qualified people, Madi could hear the thing say "maybe if I try again it'll take me back". This wasn't too surprising given the disproportionately large head, as it implies a disproportionately large brain, but she assumed that to be a consequence of infancy.

If it could speak, it would have to utilize Aguriga's lexicon, and that meant it was sentient. _'The pore thing must be terrified in there, it won't listen to reason from someone as alien as me under that kind of shock, and because it's sentient then it might accidentally set off the bomb trying to find a way out. It probably won't hurt me too bad if I force her out though, so I have to try,'_ Madi thought to herself as ripped open the door to the testing chamber, just in time for a bright light to radiate from the ponies horn and engulf the room including Madi.


End file.
